


Permanent to Me

by glitteredcurls



Series: H&L one-shots [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 9/28, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Married Couple, Newly weds, Sweet, Tattoos, harry does, louis has none at the moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 10:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredcurls/pseuds/glitteredcurls
Summary: Harry's covered in tattoos. Louis hasn't got a single dot of ink under his skin. He can't think of something he wants on his skin forever-- he only cares about the rest of his life he gets to spend with his new husband...Actually, maybe he has an idea after all.





	Permanent to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Just something a little sweet for 9/28. Enjoy x

The buzzing got irritating after a while. Louis wasn’t entirely sure how it didn’t bother the artist or Harry as they leaned into hour three of tattooing. The sound was nearly constant and low, Louis almost able to feel it thrumming in the air. He was on the opposite side of the machine itself, but it felt like it was resting beside his ear.

“ _ Ow _ , fuck.” Harry winced, sucking air between his teeth. He tightened his grip on Louis’ hand, trying to transfer the pain directly into Louis-- via broken fingers. He was always Harry’s personal stress-ball for all his tattoo endeavors, although somehow Louis never learned to switch hands every hour.

“Hurt, huh?” Louis teased, lifting his eyebrows. Harry tried to glare at Louis, but another twinge in his arm made his one eye flutter closed. “That’s what you get for getting a tattoo in the crook of your bloody elbow.”

“It doesn’t hurt  _ that _ bad.” Harry countered. Louis could see a flush climbing up Harry’s chest, his shirt wide open and showing the other tattoos Louis nearly lost dexterity over.  _ Collar bone tattoos don’t hurt _ , they’d told Harry. In the end, they didn’t, but Louis still wasn’t able to hold a pencil for two days after.

“You’re such a fucking idiot, you know that?” Louis muttered, leaning forward. He rested his elbows on Harry’s thighs and peered over to the growing tattoo. The lines were dark and clean, raised above the flat curve of Harry’s forearm and bicep. “Absolute fucking idiot.”

“You married into this.” Harry said with a tight laugh. His amusement was interrupted by another thick line dragging over the sensitive crease of skin. “Can’t back out now, baby.” Louis rolled his eyes and squeezed Harry’s hand back, trying to circulate blood flow. 

The new tattoo was completely Harry’s idea. The others littered over his body were pieces Harry had consulted Louis about before. Harry painstakingly flip-flopped between designs for his swallow pieces, Louis sitting at their dining table and nodding away every insecurity over the artwork, even after it was put on Harry’s skin. Louis didn’t ask any questions or pose any resistance when Harry asked Louis to free up his afternoon to come with him. It was a tradition of sorts; Harry willingly underwent strange amounts of pain while Louis sat beside him, kissing his knuckles and telling him he was a fucking fool.

“It looks good.” Louis said, lifting their hands to rest by his lips. Harry loosened his grip to playfully poke Louis’ bottom lip with his knuckle. “ _ Very _ rockstar of you, Mr. Styles.”

“Would you leave the stage name for work?” Harry sighed, letting his head loll to the side closest to Louis. “That’s not my last name anymore.” He spoke quietly, his lips curling up from their grimace to a bubbling smile. The joy seemed to block the pain, if only for a moment. “ _ Fuck _ .” Harry laughed, sweet expression breaking.

“See? This is why you don’t get tattoos. Idiot.” Louis teased. He poked Harry in the chest, right over his butterfly. Harry couldn’t move to retaliate, allowing Louis to grow unbelievably smug.

“How is it Louis has been here for every tattoo, but I’ve never gotten to stick him?” The tattoo artist was a friend of theirs, having seen Harry in varying states of “fine” and Louis there to protect his dignity-- which almost always involved kissing him better.

“Louis thinks he was born perfect. Mustn’t tarnish the art.” Harry replied dryly, rolling his eyes. Louis waited until the needle was lifted before slapping Harry’s chest lightly.

“I just don’t see the point.” Louis said. “They look nice on Harry, but I just don’t think they’re for me.”

“That’s bullshit.” Harry laughed. “You’re scared.”

“I am fucking not.” Louis said. “I just don’t… I don’t know what’s so important that I want it on my skin forever.”

Harry looked down at himself-- at his two swallows, his butterfly, his ship, his rose, his anchor, and the very small L tucked away on the inside of his wrist-- before looking back at Louis.

“Mine kind of follow a certain theme.”

“Baby, you match the decor of our house.” Louis said with a quiet chuckle. In all honesty, they were pieces they had bought to negate the commitment of Louis getting something so  _ big _ and  _ permanent _ on his skin. Instead, their promise of being each other’s center, no matter where they travel, manifested half on the walls of their home and half on Harry’s skin. One home that traveled with Louis at all times, and one that was always there waiting for them.

“Way to make it feel cheap.” Harry muttered, face falling. The buzzing of the machine had stopped.

“No-- I just,” Louis sighed and pulled Harry’s hand back up to his mouth, kissing it. He centered his lips over Harry’s cross tattoo-- one Louis wasn’t actually there for, only to be later surprised by the small shape and quiet admission Harry was sure that their meeting was beyond worldly reasoning. Louis was his own small miracle, and he wanted to announce it to every set of eyes trying to get their own piece of him.

“Just what?”

“The compass in our house is so big and-- and the little dagger we have? That’s not my personality. The butterfly terrarium we got for the first flat is  _ yours _ . I can’t do any of that.” Louis explained, shaking his head.

“You’re calling them ugly.”

“I’m not!” Louis cried. “Harry, come on. I love that you wanted to get something permanent for me, for  _ us _ , but I don’t know if it’s for me.” Harry’s face didn’t change, not even the dig and sting of the tattoo needle could twist his expression. “Baby, I’m not insulting you. I think they’re beautiful. I think  _ you’re _ beautiful, okay?” He kissed Harry’s cross again.

“I guess I just don’t get it. Why would you--  _ fuck _ \--” Harry stopped and whipped his head to stare at his arm. The only part left was directly in the center of his elbow. He turned back slowly, blinking back a strange mix of pain and frustration. “Why would you let me put up all our nautical stuff if you… if you don’t  _ like it _ .”

“No! No, I like it, Harry. I love it. I loved hanging up all those pieces and I loved sitting with you and helping you decide on your tattoos. I love that you include me,”

“But?” Harry said, hearing the tone changing at the end of Louis’ sentence.

“Look, I know you think our compasses are turned towards each other and God pointed us together but… I’m just happy I  _ met  _ you.” Louis laughed. “I’m just happy you fucking married me.  _ That’s _ what I can’t believe. All the chance encounters and good timing and everything  _ wild _ that has happened for us to be together seems to small when I think about the rest of our lives we promised to spend together. I want to remember  _ that _ . I want to remember that I have you, with me, for every day that I’m alive. You’re my forever-- you’re permanent to me  _ that way _ . Houses change but we won’t.”

Harry blinked at Louis, smile small and eyes shiny. He cleared his throat and avoided actually shedding a tear. “Fuck, you are entirely too good at that.”

“At what? I’m just talking.” Louis said, nudging Harry’s leg again.

“No, you’re being a fucking-- you did this with our vows.” Harry pointed at Louis firmly but let out a short, wet laugh. “You went first and you turned me into a blubbering, weeping,  _ snotty _ mess with a two minute speech.”

“It was the happiest day of my life, I had to have something good to say.” Louis said softly. He leaned over and placed a careful, slow kiss on Harry’s lips.

The machine began buzzing again.

Happiest day of his life. Of all the ones he could recount, and all that involved Harry, it really was the one he cherished the most.

“You know... I have an idea.” Louis said.

“You said the same thing before getting down on one knee, but, I’m sure this idea will make me cry just as much. Again.” Harry said, inhaling slowly and blinking away the last of his tears. “What is it, baby?”

Louis turned to the artist. “Do you think you could… fit me in after Harry?”

“Excuse me?” Harry said, leaning forward and nearly jostling the needle. “For what? A tattoo?”

“I think I know what I want.”

“No fucking way.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows and tried to decode the grin growing across Louis’ face. He wouldn’t tell.

Harry’s small cross was a surprise to confess just how much Louis kept him grounded in the uncontrollable-- and the extremely lucky. Louis would get his own tattoo to remind him of the one day when the entire world fell away and never came back. The day the future could officially be found in the wide eyes and timid smile of the man in front of him, at the tattoo parlor and at the altar.

The two numbers of the date would settle just above his knuckles, a placeholder for the ring Louis couldn’t wear beyond his own front door. A two would become their wedding band-- two souls-- and the eight would rest on the same finger Harry wore his own wedding ring. Every set of eyes would see it, but no one would understand it.

After another hour, Harry’s tattoo was finished, wiped, and wrapped up. Louis switched with him and sat in the chair, sweating and nearly shaking. Harry took his right hand tightly between both of his own and kissed his fingers. Louis pretended the buzzing needle closing in on his skin were Harry’s lips-- beautiful healers to all harm.

“It doesn’t hurt that much.” Harry promised quietly. “The constant movement is the worst to me.”

“Yeah?” Louis asked, taking a quick deep breath as he saw the needle hover over the purple outline.

“Yeah. You’ll be okay.” Harry said. “I’ve got you.”

“Can I break your hand?” Louis asked, half-joking and already squeezing Harry’s hand with every ounce of force he had.

“Break whatever you want-- heart excluded.” Harry kissed Louis on the cheek.

The needles first pulse against Louis’ skin was a surprise, but far less pain than he expected. It  _ hurt _ , Louis wasn’t going to pretend it didn’t, but the pain washed over his hand in a white, hot wave. There was no one pressure point to hone in on. He could feel the push of each of Harry’s fingers far more clearly. He could feel Harry’s rings digging into the tops of his hands and side of his thumb as Louis tugged him closer.

“I love you.” Louis said finally, the machine speaking loudly in their silence. Harry had been watching Louis’ tattoo take shape and was surprised by his words. He looked over at Louis in surprise, almost concerned by the sentiment.

“I always love you.” Harry responded, smiling. “You don’t have to tell me that because I guilt-tripped you into a tattoo.”

“No. I have to.” Louis countered, his own eyes stinging as tears began to pool along his bottom lid. He wasn’t sure if he was actually in that much pain. “I love you so much, Harry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“You tell me every day.”

“But now I’m telling the rest of the world. And you’ll know it every time you see me, no matter where I am.” Louis blinked and kept his tears back. He wasn’t going to make  _ himself _ cry.

“My true north.” Harry whispered, leaning closer to kiss Louis again and still the trembling in his bottom lip. “Wherever I go.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: kissyboystyles


End file.
